Lost Traveler
by Lanerose
Summary: FMAxKenshin Oneshot: Is it life enough for you to have found a lost traveler bringing death?


**A Lost Traveler**

Darkened clouds crossed a pale moon, blocking what little light fell across the streets of Kyoto. Blossoms from a cherry tree drifted on the wind, floating to the ground in the empty street, only the soft sound of their impact daring to break the silence. In a dark alley near the river, the shadows loomed, bending and twisting themselves to cover the red haired man who faded in and out of them.

The man's hair was tied in a topknot, but nevertheless flowed down the man's back, long and vibrant. His sword rested sheathed at his side, a weapon wielded in a manner unlike the naked blades of the patrols whose detection he slipped as he blended with the darkness around him. His skills were not, had never been, a matter of brute force.

Emotionless gold eyes glinted as he looked carefully around a corner before slipping into the next street. He moved swiftly, bowing his flawless face as he hurried along. The night was still young, and who knew what battles awaited. As the man dodged across the next cross street, the clouds drew away for a split second, casting the moon's rays down upon the solitary figure.

"Who are you?" The words sliced through the air, a voice soft and deadly. The red haired man froze, then quickly brought his hand to rest upon the hilt of his sword.

"I am the Battousai." He replied. "Leave quickly, and I will not kill you."

"Face me." Said the voice. The red haired man turned slowly around, carefully avoiding provoking an act until he had a clear view of his pursuer and could take him out. His eyes widened as he caught his first glance of the man who had dared to interfere with a known killer.

"Well," The red haired man said, staring at the golden eyed double of himself, "This does make things interesting, doesn't it?"

Himura Kenshin scanned the man before him, studying his expression before repeating his question.

"Who are you?"

The red haired man stared at him, then shook his head and threw his arms lackadaisically behind his head, his golden eyes switching to a wider violet. Himura stared at the man before him, a man who, had his eyes not glinted so peculiarly, had his posture not maintained its menace even in its seemingly relaxed state – a man who could have reminded him of the way he once was.

"Hey, hey. So you're the real Battousai." The violet eyed man answered, studying his counterpart carefully. His eyes lit upon a thin slash running down the man's left cheek. "Funny, no one ever mentioned you having a scar. I guess I'll have to find someone else to copy if you're finally going to get killed."

Himura did not hesitate any longer. His sword flashed as it slid swiftly from its scabbard, through the air and into the body of the man before him. The body fell to the ground lifelessly, its wide violet eyes still gazing at the world. After a moment, he turned and began to walk away.

"Look, it doesn't have to be this way." A voice behind him said. Himura spun around to see his duplicate standing on his feet once more, the sweeping gash that had cut through him mending itself. "I don't suppose you could just tell me how to get out of Kyoto?"

"I see." The real Battousai said after a moment, turning to face his opponent. He readied his hand over the hilt of his sword, preparing to strike. "So they have at last sent a demon after the demon who hunts them."

Himura's doppelganger stared at him, then shrugged.

"Well, if everything comes down to a fight for you…" The copy said, tossing his blade aside and focusing instead on the person whose identity he had for the moment stolen. "You need to get a girlfriend or something. Is it life enough for you to have found a lost traveler bringing death?"

"I am a manslayer. That is all." Himura replied, studying his now unarmed opponent, trying to decide from where the stranger was most likely to produce a weapon. Even the outfit was his own, which suggested a wakuzashi – but no, the imitator had thrown that beside the katana…

Afterwards, neither would be sure who had moved first, but surely someone must have, as two bodies were suddenly in motion, springing towards one another. One charged, hand over his blade, wondering just how many cuts it would take to destroy the monster before him; the other flipping idly, motions free and uninhibited. They met in the middle, a sword slashing out to cut through –

Air.

Himura could feel the point of the dagger digging into his throat, his body caught in a vice like grip that he could tell had the advantage in strength over his own. A beat passed. Then two. Then three. Still, the dagger remained where it was, neither moving forward to break the skin nor drawing back to free him.

"Willing to listen to me now, Battousai?" inquired his duplicate. The man in question answered with his silence. In the near distance, he could hear the sound of an approaching patrol. One way or another, this would all end soon.

"You can hear them coming." The man with the dagger said. "That's good. Since I'm using your appearance at the moment and am the reason you're still here, I'll do you a favour just this once and get rid of them. Wait here, and then go where you will, if you don't mind me keeping up the act. If you try to leave before the war is over, though, I'll be very upset with you. Pretending to kill people is much less bothersome than actually having to do it myself."

The dagger moved from Himura's throat, the hands that had held him drawing away. He spun around, only to have a kiss pressed soundly but quickly upon his lips before watching the figure that could have been him flip away. The clouds cleared again, and there at the end of the street he could see his copy. As he watched, the man winked. With a flash of light, a thin line of scarring appeared upon his cheek.

Then, as quickly as he had appeared, the doppelganger vanished into the distance. A patrol passed the alley in which Himura stood, blending with the shadows once more. He remained a moment longer, then began the walk back to the inn.

He would have ignored it, Battousai would tell himself later, sitting alone in his room. It had meant nothing, and yet… As the men congratulated him at breakfast the next morning, Himura wondered just what kind of demon could take out several patrols more than he himself ever had before.

Not far away, Envy laughed at the chaos of the Revolution.


End file.
